The little poem of the morning sun

...Like a shadow that moves sideways
A glowing light underneath the air
Building the shape of despair
As you're searching for it through the days
Nobody will come from that ways
But a presence...Always the presence.Will be there
Making the promise to be elsewhere
Giving comfort,giving soul...
Giving pleasure to your old
Filling up your heart,as bright as gold
And your lovely head takes scars to be sold.

Ticks e Pinkas